


You Are a Goddess and I Shall Be Your Temple

by ameliathermopolis



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, PWP
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-21
Updated: 2013-09-21
Packaged: 2017-12-27 04:39:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/974440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ameliathermopolis/pseuds/ameliathermopolis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Three hundred and forty two,” Helga Hufflepuff said, her ever soft voice pressing at the silence of her bedchamber. In the firelight she could see the man beside her raise one dark eyebrow. </p>
<p>“What was that, my sweet?” he asked. </p>
<p>“Kisses. You gave me three hundred and forty two of them, though I admit I was a bit distracted in my counting.” She chuckled and snuggled into his side. “I do believe you said your goal was at least five hundred.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Are a Goddess and I Shall Be Your Temple

“Three hundred and forty two,” Helga Hufflepuff said, her ever soft voice pressing at the silence of her bedchamber. In the firelight she could see the man beside her raise one dark eyebrow.

“What was that, my sweet?” he asked.

“Kisses. You gave me three hundred and forty two of them, though I admit I was a bit distracted in my counting.” She chuckled and snuggled into his side. “I do believe you said your goal was at _least_ five hundred.”

“If you had enough of your wits left to count, I don't think I was doing my duty to you well enough,” Salazar said with a sigh. Helga snorted and moved to prop her chin up on his shoulder.

“I would hardly call your actions a _duty_ , Salazar,” she chided, kissing his jaw. “Duty implies that you don't wish to perform it, and unless I am as terrible at reading men as Rowena claims...” Helga trailed off. Salazar laughed and curled one strawberry blonde lock around his right index finger. He finally turned to look down at her.

“Is it not a man's duty to give pleasure to the woman he loves?” he purred. Helga bit her tongue when she felt his hands begin to wander across her skin. Even after months of sharing her bed with him, she could not help but blush whenever he said such things. Salazar's mouth dropped to her neck as they moved together, Helga on her back, he hovering over her. “Is it not my duty as your lover to tend to your needs before my own?” His lips brushed her skin between words, raising gooseflesh. “Is it not my _privilege_ to make you climax, to hear here you whimper for me, sweet Helga?” His hands drifted lower down her sides at a maddeningly slow pace, and Helga was certain he could hear her pulse race, could feel the heat his lips rose as they traveled back towards her mouth.

“Salazar...” she cooed as his lips brushed the corner of his mouth. “Say it again.” She felt him smile before he drew himself up to look at her.

“Say what again, my sweet?” His smile was wicked, and Helga fought the urge it kiss it away. 

“That you love me.”

“My dear Helga, I'm afraid I'm making you vain,” Salazar said with a laugh. He leant down as Helga rose up on her elbows and they met in the middle of the space between them. His black hair tickled her cheeks as they kissed, he had grown it so long in the months since they moved to the castle. _Gods above, but will I never get used to this_ , Helga prayed as she ran a hand through his curls.

“It is not vanity that urges me to speak, Salazar,” she breathed as he again dropped his head to kiss her neck. “I know you are not as vocal about your feelings as I am, and I would never wish to change you, but-”

“But you like when I remind you of my devotion to you,” Salazar finished for her, punctuating his words with a gentle nip to her pulse point. “I forget, Helga, that sometimes you require such things.”

“And you are always confident in my love for you?” she asked with a playful tug on his hair. 

“Always. I do my utmost to not forget it, or to forget to cherish that you belong to me, in this at least.”

“Then say you love me again.” Helga had meant for her voice to come out teasing, sultry perhaps, but it was all she could do to stop herself from sounding childish. Salazar did not stop in his kissing, dropping them lower and lower until he had to shift down her body.

“Are you sure you wouldn't prefer for me to show you?” He swiped his tongue between her breasts and his hands fell to rest on the tops of Helga's thighs before he continued kissing down. Keeping her voice from whining stopped being a concern in the light of the fact that Helga could barely keep her voice steady at all.

“N-No, Salazar,” she stammered. “Don't make me treat you like a first year and give you a lecture about using your words.” The tug she gave on his hair was less than kind this time. Helga felt him sigh against her stomach before he raised his head.

“Does it really mean so much to you? Hearing the words?” Salazar's dark eyes searched Helga's face and she blushed under the scrutiny. It had been a long time since she had feared his ridicule, his judgement, how a single raised eyebrow could make her stare at her feet and go silent. Where his eyes had been cold and emotionless on their first meeting, now they were warm, if Helga looked hard enough into them. She swallowed hard and nodded.

“Yes. It's the silliest thing, I know,” she said with a shake of her head. One of Salazar's hands reached up to cup her cheek.

“It's not silly, Helga. I do wish you would get out of the habit of saying that every time you ask me for something.” The cold hand at her cheek moved back into her hair and his thumb brushed across her temple. Salazar stared at her for a moment before hauling himself back up to her level. Helga's legs opened to allow him to get closer and her arms looped under his shoulders to hold him there. It was easy, a reflex, to bring him into her body and keep him there as long as he was willing to stay. Salazar sighed as her hands moved over his back. “Gods, how are you so warm all the time, Helga? Every time you hold me, it feels like you're going to set me alight.”

“Someone has to thaw that icy heart you want everyone to think you have,” she teased. He favored her with a small smile and leant down to kiss her forehead. Helga crossed her ankles behind the small of his back and Salazar jerked forward at the touch of her heels. Helga bit her lip when she felt his cock drag against her inner thigh. He was hard again and despite the spike of warmth she felt in her core, Helga was fighting to stifle a girlish giggle. “Already, Salazar? You need warming again? I appears you're not the only one who's been shirking their _duty_.” With a roll of his eyes, Salazar let Helga carry his entire weight, closing what small distance was left between them.

“Joy merely feeds into the need for more joy, sweet Helga. It is not your fault I find so much of it in making love to you.” They were so close, their noses and foreheads were touching. Helga felt like she could see in the depths of her lover's soul, so close were his dark eyes, and she could only hope her own eyes were being as transparent with her feelings. “You look like some fallen goddess like this,” Salazar whispered, eyes half closed. “Hair undone, naked, glowing in the firelight. If you asked it of me, I would worship at your feet.” Salazar's eyes fluttered closed and he raked a hand through his hair. There was silence in the room for a minute as he gathered his thoughts, Helga drawing the plans of her herb gardens on his back with her fingers. For a brief moment, she thought he wasn't going to say anything, that that was the end of the conversation, and he would leave to go back the to dungeons before the students woke up. But when he turned back to her, his eyes held a very different intention. “Do you?” he asked. Helga saw his throat work as he spoke, full of a tension that looked unnatural on him. “Ask it of me?”

A slow, gentle smile spread across Helga's face and she raised both of her hands to rest at the sides of his neck. “Yes,” she whispered. “Yes, Salazar, I want that more than anything in the world.”

Helga had only the clenching of his jaw to prepare herself. In one swift thrust he was inside her and the sudden breach made her clench her thighs around his hips. Her head hit the pillow and her hair went everywhere as she arched her back. She had never lain with another man, but even she knew that Salazar was better at lovemaking than he had any right to be. Her body did not resist his intrusion; it knew his too well. If he got any closer to her, they would all but become one body. His breath came fast and shallow as he hovered. It was always this way. Helga had grown up thinking any lover she took, any husband she would have, would see her as nothing but a body, a machine to produce children. It was, as her mother had been so fond of reminding her, the way of women. But as Helga lay in bed, Salazar buried inside her, his self-control etched into the fine lines of his face as he waited for her to adjust, she could not help but think, _This is what it feels to be a lover. This is what it feels to be wanted._ Salazar's voice was trembling when he spoke.

“Now...where to begin?” His hands moved to grasp hers as his hips pulled back and his fingers slid between hers as he thrust forward. Helga's fingers tightened as she moaned softly, eyes fluttering shut. “I love your eyes,” Salazar said. “I love how you look at the world, how you can see all the evil in the world and refuse to let it ruin you.” Another thrust, this one deeper, harder, but still slow. “I love the way you glance at me when we have to act as colleagues and not as lovers, as though there is nothing you want more than to be alone with me. I love the way your gorgeous eyes shine for me.” Salazar was beginning to build up a rhythm and he bowed his head to press kisses to each of Helga's closed eyes.

_I had no idea what I was asking for, did I?_ Helga thought. _No idea at all._ Their fingers were laced together and he held her hands above her head, effectively pinning her in place. Her eyes opened and she whimpered at the look on Salazar's face, the pure rapture in his eyes, his touch. “Salazar...” 

“I love your mouth. I love your soft lips and your kisses and the way you can't bring your tongue to say a bad word about anyone,” he continued as if he hadn't heard. “I love that you sing as you work, the pure magic in your voice, whether praising someone or reprimanding them.” He lowered his head to brush a kiss over her open mouth. “I love the way my name sounds on your lips. I love how it feels safe in your mouth.” Helga raised her head as best she could, chasing his lips as Salazar pulled back. He was thrusting in and out of her in earnest now, but he never really left her body. Her legs tightened to get him deeper, to get the base of his cock to rub against the bundle of nerves at the top of her sex, but he was having none of it.

Salazar's thumbs brushed over the tops of her hands where they were clasped. “I love your hands. So hard working, and yet still so soft. I love how you manage to look your most beautiful with dirt up to your elbows, working in your gardens. You have such a wonderful sort of magic, my love. A magic for things that grow. Everything you touch cannot help but sprout buds and bloom, if only to make you happy.” Salazar kissed the top of her right hand, over the tiny silver band fashioned into a snake he had given her, the only physical token of his affection he had ever given her. “I never want to ever stop touching you. I never want my love for you to stop growing.”

For all her talk of wanting Salazar to worship her, Helga did not know what to do. She knew he would not stop until he was done, that no matter how many times she climaxed, he would wait until she was fully satisfied before taking his own pleasure. They were only at her hands and she felt tears welling in her eyes. “Salazar, Salazar, _Salazar,_ please don't stop, _please_.” A flash of lust shot through Salazar's eyes as she begged and he shifted so that he was higher above her, legs still wrapped around his hips. The hand holding her left hand let go and traced down her arm to cup one of her breasts, his thumb rolling over the nipple and earning another moan.

“I love all of your body that makes you a woman,” he purred. “I love your breasts and your sex and the soft curves that, no matter how many layers you put on, always call to me. Helga, my dearest one, I am only truly myself when I am inside you.” Helga's newly freed hand went to his hair and she dragged him down for a hungry kiss. His tongue brushed the roof of her mouth, distracting her enough to not notice his hand reaching between their bodies, reaching for the bundle of nerves that would cause her to scream. He rubbed her in time with his thrusts, and Helga was so shocked by the sudden burst of pleasure that she nearly bit his tongue off. She fell into her climax at once, head thrown back in ecstasy. Salazar bent his head and bit her hard on the shoulder, hard enough to leave a mark. He did not let up in his thrusting, though it was nearly impossible to hold off against Helga clenching him, drawing him into her body. He did not let up in his explanations either. 

“I love your hair,” he panted. “I love the way it pulls from your braids, the way it shines in the sunlight, the way it spreads over your pillow when we make love.” Salazar threaded his fingers into her hair and forced her to look at him. Helga was wrecked, lips red from kisses, cheeks flushed with her pleasure. But he wasn't done yet. Helga could feel her body tensing again, growing hot from where he moved in and out of her, and everything was building up so quickly, burning so hot, that it was almost enough to frighten her.

“I love your legs.” Salazar's voice was shaking in earnest now and he let go of Helga's other hand to grip the pillows on either side of her head. “I love the way your thighs grip my hips, the way the backs of your knees feel draped over my shoulders when my tongue's between your legs.”

_He's close,_ Helga whimpered in her own head. _He's so, so close but he won't finish until I do. Gods, how is such pleasure ever considered a sin? How can it when I feel like a holy thing in his arms?_ Helga's arms wrapped around his back and she dragged her nails down the line of his spine. Salazar shuddered and picked up his pace, his hips starting to stutter with his voice.

“I-I-I love your scars,” he stammered, reaching down to brush his fingers over the molted skin of Helga's calf. Her eyes snapped to his and she could see how serious he was being, even now. “I love how you refused to have them removed, even though they remind you of your burning. Do you know what they remind me of, my love? Why I always kiss them whenever I get the chance? Because they remind me how strong the woman I adore is, how happy I am that you were lead to me in this life, so that I may ensure that you will never feel such cruelty again. I will not allow this world to hurt you again, Helga. Not now. Not ever. Not as long as I am alive.” This time, Helga really did cry. Salazar's thrusts were frantic now and she was teetering on the edge with him, clinging to him as if he were the only thing keeping her on this Earth. 

“I love you, I love you, I love you, my perfect, wonderful, Salazar, I love you so,” she moaned into his ear. Her hands gripped his shoulders and tangled in his hair and she was lost to the pleasure he gave her. “Please, my only one, I'm so close again. I need to feel you inside me, _please_.” Salazar's voice sounded small and broken as he gave her the last of his strength. One, two, three near violent thrusts and Helga was gone again, calling out his name to the silence of the room. When he reached his climax, Salazar whispered her name; all his noises during lovemaking were quiet, like secrets meant just for her. 

“Helga...oh, Helga, my love,” he moaned as he spilled inside her, hips twitching as his pleasure washed over him. Sweat made his hair stick to his forehead and Helga brushed it aside to kiss it. He collapsed on her, head right over her heart. Her arms wrapped around him even as the rest of her relaxed and for several moments neither of them spoke. The room was filled with their panting, with the pounding of their hearts as they came down from their high. Salazar was exhausted, so sated he felt he would never move again. “I...I...” he tried to say. 

“Hush,” Helga whispered in his ear. “Hush, my love, you've said enough.”

“I love your heart, Helga Hufflepuff,” Salazar managed and Helga held him all the tighter. “I love that there is a place in it for me. I do not deserve you. I will never deserve you.” Helga shook her head and pressed her lips to the top of his head. There would be no moving for him tonight. She muttered a spell to bring down the fire and clean them both up as best she could. She still had so much to learn, about magic and about love and about men and about the lover that lay nearly asleep in her arms.

“Love has nothing to do with worth, Salazar Slytherin,” she said. “Love is a magic far beyond anything we could ever teach here.” Salazar hummed against her skin and raised his head as best he could. 

“Helga?” he asked and she looked down at him. He smiled and pressed a kiss to the mark he had left on her shoulder. “Five hundred.” 

**Author's Note:**

> After years of posting fic only on FF.net, I've snuggled up to this lovely place. Ever since the news broke that Fantastic Beasts is going to be made into a film, and the first in a series at that, I've been dreaming of "Hogwarts, a History." Such thinking led, as it often does, to shipping, and here we are. 
> 
> I have always firmly believed Helga Hufflepuff was a Muggle-born witch, talented and intelligent in ways that her three colleagues could not quite understand. I love putting her with Salazar because they are different. Where I imagine him to be cold and quick to make a cutting remark, she is soft, warm, comforting. She is an unstoppable force of optimism, he an immovable object of pessimism. I never stood a chance. 
> 
> A quick note in case it wasn't clear enough: the scars on Helga's lower legs that Salazar mentions near the end are a result of Helga's family trying to burn her for witchcraft. She was very young at the time and though Godric and Rowena offered to magic them away, she refused. They are her battle scars, her reminder that there is evil in the world, but there is also good worth fighting for. 
> 
> Hit me up on tumblr at thepurposeismypenis.


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